


I like having you around

by ryanzimmerman



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Drunken cuddling, First Kisses, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Washington Nationals, injured!trea, my sweet sweet boys, pining!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanzimmerman/pseuds/ryanzimmerman
Summary: Trea gets hurt and gets sad about it. Tony is a sweetheart who may or may not be in love with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> takes place right after Trea's injury in the Cubs/Nats game 6/29/17
> 
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> rated teen for potty words.
> 
> this is my first fic! ever! pls leave me feedback, and please be nice to me lmao.

He knew it was bad as soon as the ball hit him. He tried, briefly, to pretend like it wasn't, walk it off, play through it, in the hopes of somehow willing himself into being fine, but Trea knew he was fucked the minute it'd happened. His whole hand burned like it was actually on fire, and the feeling spread from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his elbow. Mikey stared him down from second, clearly trying to get some kind of read on him, and everyone on the bench was whispering back and forth, debating the possibility of pulling him right then and there. Trea spent the rest of the inning cradling his wrist and praying to any and all gods that it wasn't as bad as it felt. But Trea knew, and he was fairly certain the rest of his team did too.

The coaches sent him down to medical as soon as the inning was over. Trea vaguely acknowledged his teammates' jumbled words of halfhearted encouragement and nervous claps on the back as he walked through, and though they sounded sincere, he couldn't help but feel like he'd let all of them down.

When he learned that they'd wound up losing, that feeling multiplied by about a thousand.

***

Anthony was not waiting for Trea. That'd be ridiculous. He just happened to be taking his time getting out of the locker room while Trea was somehow _still_ being looked over by the team's doctors close to an hour after the game had ended. At this point, he couldn't help but start worrying. Was he hurt that bad? Did they have to cart him off to a hospital as soon as he'd come down here? It hadn't looked that serious when he'd seen it, or in the replays they'd show on the big screen, but maybe he'd missed something, and it was really a lot worse than any of them had initially thought. He'd been able to move it, so surely it couldn't have been _that_ bad, right? Then again, that could've been all adrenaline. He could've broken his whole hand. He could've pulled something. _Hell_ , it could be _both_. His stomach dropped at the thought, even though he knew it was unreasonable.

Okay, so maybe he is waiting for Trea. But only for his own sanity. And because they're _friends_. Not at all because he's whipped for the kid.

Everyone else had been gone, figuring they'd find out about it either on the news later or at the game the next day. Which left Tony to wander around the locker room alone, trying to find something to occupy his anxious mind. He fiddled around with the locks on his teammate's lockers. He spent a good five minutes attempting to guess Bryce's combination, just so he could fuck with him later on. He eventually gave up on that and moved on to Max's, where he'd had just as much luck. He checked his phone, which had been a bad idea - there were four different notifications with titles along the lines of _"Trea Turner Leaves in the 7th with Apparent Wrist Injury."_ He quickly cleared those out, then sat down on one of the benches and bounced around between several stupid games on his phone, none of which held his attention for very long. He opened his camera to make sure he looked okay, and then immediately felt like a moron for doing so. 

_Dumbass_ , he thought to himself. _He just got his hand smashed by a pitch, do you really think he gives a shit what you look like now?_ He closed out of his camera and sat his phone down. _Or ever for that matter?_

He was beginning to debate just leaving, thinking Trea would find it weird that he'd been waiting around for so long, when he heard a door open. Tony whipped his head around to find Trea standing in the doorway, his arm bandaged up and his face red and blotchy, looking shocked to see that anyone had stuck around.

"Tony. You're still here," Trea said tightly. He stared for a second, then immediately looked to the ground. "I, uh… I figured everyone would've been gone by now." He rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands and attempted to pull off what had to have been the saddest smile Tony had ever seen. 

"Yeah, I uh…" He faltered. _Shit. All this free time you had and you didn't bother to come up with a good excuse for still being here._ "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I guess." _Fuck_. "How bad is it?"

Trea was quiet for entirely too long. He made his way to his locker, which was right across from where Tony was sitting, snatched a fistful of clothes out of it, and started changing, quickly, angrily, yanking his jersey off and throwing it at the floor below him. He didn't look at Tony once this whole time. _Shit. It's bad_ , he thought. He was beginning to wonder if he should just leave, let him be mad in peace, when Trea finally spoke.

"It's broken," He said, pulling his undershirt off over his head and dropping it down on top of his jersey. Tony immediately averted his gaze, pretending to look over at his phone. Trea stared up at the locker above his and sighed. He kept talking while he changed. "My wrist, I mean. Fractured, they said. Not sure if that makes a difference. They're putting me on the 10-day, but I'll be out longer, they're saying six to eight weeks probably." He pulled a t-shirt on and rubbed his eyes again. " _Fuck…_ " he mumbled, so quietly Tony could barely hear it, and shook his head. 

Tony was speechless for a moment, because, really, what the hell do you say to that? He knew injuries sucked, he'd been there, so he also knew that there really wasn't much you _could_ say. He could hear the heartbreak in Trea's voice. Nothing helped in situations like these.

"Oh shit, that fucking sucks man, that's awful." he managed to spit out. _Real nice, way to be comforting, jackass_ , he thought, mentally kicking himself. He'd never been great in these situations. "I'm sorry, man." He finished, hoping that sounded at least somewhat sincere. Trea seemed to think so, at least a little bit, because he sat down next to Tony with his head in his hands, close enough that he could feel all the heat radiating off of him, and _shit is he crying?_ As soon as the thought entered his head, he heard a sharp intake of breath from his teammate, and saw his shoulders start shaking. They sat like this, Trea crying silently into his hands, praying Tony wouldn't notice, and Tony staring down at him, trying to act like he hadn't, for what was probably no more than a couple of minutes. It felt like days to both of them, neither one knowing what the hell to do next. When he couldn't take it anymore, Tony reached out and nervously, as softly as he could, put his hand on Trea's shoulder. He heard Trea's breath catch in the back of his throat when he touched him and immediately pulled back. "Sorry, I…" He trailed off when Trea shook his head, finally looking up. Tears were dripping down his face, catching on the tip of his nose and his chin, and it took every ounce of self-control in Tony's body not to reach out and wipe them away.

"You're fine," He said, his voice scratchy. Tony nodded and put his hand back where it had been, and about died when he felt Trea lean into his touch. _Don't make this weird, it's not like that, he's just sad_ , he thought, as he swallowed the lump that'd been building in his throat and started rubbing his shoulder. Trea balled up the bottom of his t-shirt in his hands and wiped his face with it before he poured it all out to Tony.

"I just wanted to have a full season, man." He cleared his throat, his voice still hoarse. "I mean, I know I was out earlier, but I only missed a few games then and it's just… after last year, with me only being up for the second half it just… it just would've been nice to actually get a whole season under my belt y'know? I-I guess," he paused here, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to finish the thought. Tony squeezed his shoulder. He looked away and continued. "I thought I'd feel like a real fucking player then. Like I'm actually a member of this team."

Tony didn't even know where to begin. He stared at him for a few seconds, his hand now completely still, while Trea stayed staring at the floor, rubbing at some dirt on his pants in an attempt to act like he hadn't just said all that. 

"Trea," he started, "you have _got_ to be kidding me."

Trea whipped his head around, clearly confused, and his face fell when he realized that Tony was smiling, almost laughing even. 

" _Of course_ you're a real fucking player. Already. Right now. Even without a full season. Like you actually have to be kidding me, you're incredible, how can you not think that?" He asked, incredulous.

"You're full of shit, Tony."

"Like hell I am. Think about it for half a second. Why the hell would we have you leading off if you weren't any good, huh? Why the hell would we have pulled you out of Triple-A? Because you're _good_ , that's why. Great actually, I'd say. How many commentators sit around and _gush_ about how fast you are, and what a great prospect you've ended up being? How many stolen bases do you have? Shit, Trea, you were almost _Rookie of the Fucking Year last year_. And y'know what, fuck that Seager kid, you should've been." Trea was still avoiding Tony's gaze, and his face was still red, granted less now from crying and more from being embarrassed. Tony swore he saw him smile, just a little bit when he made fun of Seager, which only fueled him to keep going. "Like I said man. Of course you're a real player. You're fucking _outstanding_ , whether you've been here for half a season or 10 years. You belong up here." Trea finally looked up at him, his eyes much softer and drier than they'd been a minute ago. 

"You don't mean all that, you're being nice because you feel bad." He said, though the smirk slowly spreading across his face seemed to indicate that he'd bought it.

"Shut up, of course I mean it. And as far as being a member of this team goes," Trea's eyes widened, like he hadn't expected Tony to go there. This time Tony was the one to look away, trying to hide a blush. "I can't speak for everyone else but, uh… I like having you around."

It was quiet for a minute, and Tony couldn't help but think, _Ahhh shit, I made it weird. Fuck_. But that thought was silenced when Trea hugged him so hard he practically _tackled_ him off of the bench. Tony steeled himself, keeping them both from falling to the floor, and briefly wondered how in the world he'd managed to go his entire life without this. Trea buried his face in the space where Tony's neck met his shoulder and Tony quickly got his arms tight around Trea's middle, terrified he might let go, that it'd be over before he was ready. He ran one of his hands up and down his back, ghosting over his spine, and kept the other arm tight around his waist, rubbing at his hipbone. Trea had his arms up under Tony's, holding onto both of his shoulders, and Tony worried for a second about Trea putting too much pressure on his injury, that he might make it worse. He turned his head a little to press his face into Trea's hair and, _oh, right. He hadn't showered yet. This is should be gross. Why isn't this gross?_ He didn't even consider pulling away. He just mumbled "be careful with your arm, man" into the side of his face. Trea squirmed a little closer and dropped his arms lower when he realized Tony wasn't going to push him off and, god, he basically fucking _nuzzled_ his face against his collarbone. He sniffled softly. Tony melted. 

They stayed like this, Trea half in Tony's lap, flush up against each other, until both of their legs started cramp up and fall asleep

"Thank you." Trea's voice was muffled, so he turned his head to the side, still laying it against Tony's shoulder, and said it again. "Thank you."

Tony nodded and ended up running his hand up through Trea's hair, messing up the back of it. He felt Trea's smile against him, and if he wasn't completely and totally and entirely _whipped_ for the kid before, then he sure was now. He laughed a little at this thought, and squeezed his teammate a little tighter. To Tony's dismay, Trea took this as a sign to let go. The two of them detached themselves, and Trea looked up at him, looking happy, looking _normal_ for the first time since he'd been hurt

They stared at each other for half a second too long.

"Being injured it still gonna suck though." Tony said, breaking eye contact. He knew he'd do something stupid if he kept looking at him like that. He also wondered when it had gotten so fucking _hot_ in the locker room. "You're gonna be bored out of your mind." 

Trea stood up and nodded, laughed a little, and then went to finish changing. His pants hit the floor and Tony immediately began studying a stain on one of the tiles in the ceiling. "Yeah I'm still not looking forward to it." He said grabbing his shorts from the pile of clothes. "I think I'll make it, though." Tony felt the bench shift as Trea sat back down next to him, and glanced over at him as he pulled his shoes on. He put his hand back on his shoulder and Trea grinned at the touch. Tony's heart skipped a beat.

"If you need anything. While you're hurt, I mean. You let me know, okay? Even if it's something stupid, I got you, I won't mind." Tony realized he was rambling and cut himself off. Trea nodded in response, and Tony decided to leave before he accidentally confessed his love for the kid. He stood up and grabbed his bag, and made his way to the exit while Trea was still tying his shoes.

"Get better kiddo." He yelled from the doorway on his way out. Trea looked up at him with a big, stupid grin and Tony returned it, unable to wipe it from his face as he walked back to his car. He was entirely too happy, considering the loss and the injury that was going to fuck up the line-up even more than it already was. Instead, his focus was on soft, albeit dirty hair in his face and bony hips that fit perfectly in his hands and strong legs tangled up in his own and a low, soft voice pressed up against his chest. 

"I'm fucked," he said, out loud to himself when he got to his car. And then he smiled bigger. The realization should've scared him, at least freaked him out a little bit. 

But it didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh. apparently there _is_ crying in baseball. would ya look at that.
> 
> I plan on adding a second part to this, where things like, actually happen, so be on the lookout for that!
> 
> come yell with me about baseball & hockey @fpsantangelo on tumblr!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a month and a half later with the second half of this fic & a coffee in my hands*
> 
> seriously, idk if anyone was actually waiting for this, but if u were, im so sorry lmao <3
> 
> same deal as last time, unbeta'd, all mistakes r mine. 
> 
> any feedback is super appreciated and will probably make my whole day lmao

Trea's recovery goes... slowly. He spends the better part of the summer in a cast, and the lack of mobility drives him insane. And once he gets out of the cast towards the end of July, it's still _weeks_ before he can even begin to move it right. The fact that he's antsy, that he's absolutely _dying_ to get back out there, doesn't really do him any favors either. He'll move his wrist too much, push himself too hard, and will end up hurting so bad the next day that he can hardly lift his arm. He's going absolutely stir-crazy from sitting on the bench, watching, the whole team can see it in his eyes. He's so young, still less than a season's worth of games to his name, and it's _killing_ him.

Tony tries to help him through it as much as he can. He keeps Trea from blaming himself for losses, reminds him that _it's a team sport_ , that it's not on him to be out there to save every single game. He knows that most of what he says doesn't help much, and it's a testament to how much Trea _hates_ being injured that not even Tony's perpetual optimism can lift his spirits. But it's worth it when, on occasion, he actually manages to get through to him. Trea'll smile at him, sometimes bump his shoulder into Tony's and thank him all sweet and quiet, and Tony has to pretend like Trea isn't the prettiest thing he's ever seen, like he isn't making his heart do fucking backflips. 

Tony keeps him from getting too down on himself. He tries his damnedest to keep him from working too hard during practices, but encourages him to keep going whenever he starts to think it's worthless. He spends _hours_ outside of Trea's scheduled rehab working with him, even when he's exhausted from his own games. Hell, he even starts making fucking _grocery runs_ for the kid, which doesn't even make any sense, it's not like his legs were broken. And this eventually leads to a routine of Tony cooking for him in Trea's kitchen, Tony with his hair up and a beer in his hand, Trea perched on a barstool watching over the whole thing, sticking his fingers in pots when Tony's not looking, the two of them shooting the shit and cracking jokes the whole time. 

At some point, right around when Trea finally gets his arm out of the sling, Tony realizes that he's gotten used to this - spending all this time with him outside of the game, having Trea rely on him, how _domestic_ things had become. He realizes, and he feels bad about it he really does, that he was gonna miss this once Trea was back to normal. He knew it was shitty, and he'd be mostly happy for Trea, because he knew how bad injuries sucked, even though he'd never really had one of this caliber. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't _love_ having this excuse to be around him. 

***

Despite all the time that they've been spending together, very little of it has been at Tony's place - it's all been either at the ballpark or in Trea's apartment. So he's surprised when Trea shows up on his doorstep, wearing the biggest smile Tony's seen since the injury. 

"What're you doing here, man?" He asks. It comes across harsher than he means it to, but Trea's still beaming like he'd just won the lottery. 

"I start rehabbing next week. On Monday." Trea responds. Tony's eyes widen, and he goes in for a hug without thinking about it. It might've been a little weird if Trea hadn't been so excited, but he just slings his arms up around Tony's neck and laughs a little bit, right against the side of his face, and Tony thinks it might possibly be the best sound he's ever heard in his life, which is cheesy but whatever.

"That's fucking awesome, good for you." He says as Trea lets go of him. He pushes his hair back out of his face and keeps on smiling, and Tony thinks that if he keeps that up for much longer, his face is gonna get stuck like that. Tony wouldn't mind it. He's unbelievably pretty like this. 

"Yeah I just got the call and I had to come tell you, because yknow, you've been helping me with it this whole time and you've been so cool and, uhh..." Trea trails off, his grin turns sort of sheepish, "I guess I could've just called you. I-I don't know why I came all the way out here."

"Because you're excited, man" Tony laughs, putting his hand on Trea's shoulder and shaking him gently. Trea leans into him and Tony pretends like his heart didn't just drop down into his stomach. He's just _so. Fucking. Cute,_ and Tony really doesn't wanna stop looking at him. 

"You wanna come in?" He asks, wondering where he got the balls to ask him that from. It really shouldn't be a big deal, he'd spent _days_ at Trea's place since the injury, but for whatever reason, Tony gets nervous about asking. But Trea's face somehow manages to light up even more, so he keeps going. "It's Friday, it's a day off, we should celebrate right?"

"You don't mind?" Trea questions. Tony shakes his head, makes a face that says _of course I don't mind, I never mind, not with you_ , so Trea follows him inside. 

***

Tony really shouldn't be drinking. Even though it's a day off, there's still a game tomorrow that he has to be ready for, and it's going on 8 o'clock. But he cracks open a beer for the both of them anyway, because having Trea in his house has him on edge for whatever reason. He drains half of his in one sip, and Trea cocks an eyebrow at him. 

"Thirsty." Tony says casually, playing it off. Trea smirks. Tony tries to relax. "You hungry? I could order food, get a pizza or something?" Trea doesn't seem to care. 

"I already ate, I'm cool with just getting tipsy and hanging around honestly" he says, and Tony's heart flip flops because _is he crazy or does that sound like a date?_ He's crazy right? 

"Works for me." Tony responds, grabbing the six pack out of the fridge, slinging it onto his coffee table, and flopping onto the couch with one arm over the back of it and his feet up in the table. Trea follows suit, but sits in the middle, closer to Tony, instead of on the opposite end. Tony drains the rest of his drink, and finally, thank god, starts to feel it. 

He flips the TV to some dumb movie and leaves the volume down low so they can bullshit. They talk baseball for awhile, about the past week's games and what went wrong, what went right. Tony lets Trea ramble about playing at PNats next week, because he can tell he's dying to talk about it. And then the conversation shifts between a million different random things. Trea's thinking about getting a dog. Tony's debating getting a haircut. Trea's watching some TV show that Tony's never heard of, and he has a lot of strong opinions on it. This goes on for hours. At some point, around 10, they finish the six pack. It's easy and casual and wonderful and it feels like they've been doing it for years, like they've always known each other. 

They both get slightly beyond tipsy, to the point where they're laughing at things that aren't really even funny and much closer than they were when the night started and Tony's not worried about a _thing_ anymore. He keeps Trea cracking up until he falls back against the couch, laughing at some stupid joke he'd made about Max possibly being actually crazy, and the back of his head lands right on Tony's arm that had been draped over the top of the couch. And Trea's too drunk to realize he should probably move, so he just gets comfortable, scooching back so that he's got the dip of his neck resting on tony's bicep. Trea lets a long breath out and rubs his face, recovering from the laughing fit he'd just had.

"Shit, Tony..." he mumbles, still half out of breath and slurring the tiniest bit. "'m gettin' tired." 

Tony stares at him because he doesn't know what to say. Trea's cheeks are still red from a mix of the laughing and the alcohol and it's such a good look on him, he can't _believe_ how good he looks, and he knows he should probably tell Trea to go home, get him an Uber, but he doesn't want him to leave, not when he's got him like this, sleepy and laying on him just the littlest bit and looking so sweet he can't stand it. So he doesn't. Instead, he puts a hand in Trea's hair and starts playing with it, trying to make it seem casual. 

"Y'can stay if you want." Tony answers, his drawl coming through even more than it usually does. Trea leans into Tony's hand, his head practically on Tony's shoulder now, and yawns, and it's so painfully cute that Tony can feel his heart race, even with all the alcohol in his system. Trea mumbles a barely audible "m'kay" under his breath before closing his eyes and falling asleep almost immediately. Tony keeps his hand in his hair and keeps running his fingers through it until his arm falls asleep, and even then he can't bring himself to move Trea, so he just leaves his arm around Trea's shoulders and watches him sleep until the alcohol catches up to him and he knocks out too. 

***

Tony wakes up for the first time, and it's going on 3 in the damn morning. He's mostly sobered up and is confused, momentarily, as to why he's on the couch. And then he feels the weight against his shoulder and remembers. Trea had shifted at some point so his face is buried right in the crook of Tony's neck, with one arm draped over his middle, and Tony's got an arm around his shoulders, holding Trea right up against him. 

Once he processes all of that, his heart rate doubles. 

He knows he can't get away without waking Trea up, so that's out of the question. Not that he really wants to do that anyway, even though he _really_ can't feel his arm now. Trea looks too comfortable, snoring lightly with his mouth half open, tucked right up against Tony's side, for him to even think about getting up. 

So Tony tries to get comfortable on the couch and fall back asleep. He shifts, just the slightest bit, trying to get trea's head in a more convenient position, which doesn't work - Trea just mumbles a little in his sleep (Tony thinks for a moment that he woke him up, and almost has a heart attack) and pushes his face farther into Tony's shoulder, which makes his arm go all kinds of tingly. He sighs and decides to give up on sleep for the night, starts watching whatever dumb infomercial was now playing on the TV they'd left on. He stares at the screen absentmindedly for awhile and, at some point, reaches the hand that isn't currently losing all circulation across and starts running it through Trea's hair. It's curly and soft and it's getting too long so it keeps falling in his face every time he pulls away, and he tries not to think too much about it, about how he's not drunk enough to be doing this anymore and how Trea would almost definitely push him off and get up and apologize and blow this whole thing off if he were to wake up now and how absolutely, completely, totally _in love_ with this kid he is despite all of that. He tries, and fails, not to think about it.

"Fuck..." Tony says under his breath, barely audible, as he pulls his hands away. This was fucking _stupid_ he shouldn't be getting his hopes up, he shouldn't be fucking touching Trea while he's _asleep_ that's _creepy_ he should just-

"What're you doing?" Trea mumbles. Tony's hand freezes and he immediately thinks of how he's gonna defend himself, talk his way out of this. Would Trea buy that he's still drunk? But then Trea goes "Why'd you stop?" and looks up at Tony with this confused look on his face and they're so close that their noses are practically touching and Tony's absolutely _dumbfounded_ but he's not gonna argue, he just apologizes, puts his hand back where it was and keeps petting him. Trea settles back into Tony's shoulder, but stays looking up at him, like he's waiting for something. Tony stares across the room, at the TV, at the walls, down at the floor, _anywhere_ but back at Trea because he doesn't trust himself to look at him and not do something stupid, especially when Trea pulls himself closer with the arm he's got draped around Tony's middle. Tony's trying not to panic because Trea clearly isn't stressed about it, he's relaxed, practically half asleep again, so Tony shouldn't care either, except he does, and this is somehow so much better yet so much worse than when Trea had let tony hold him in the locker room - better because they're closer, because it's lasting longer, but worse because _this feels like it should mean something more_. But it doesn't, and Tony's nuts, he's projecting, Trea's probably still half drunk, and they're just _friends_ , friends who take care of each other and have practically _lived together_ for the past three months considering the time he'd spent at Trea's place through the injury, and, apparently, now sleep together, cuddled up on Tony's couch and it's _fine_ , Tony can live with that. Probably. Maybe.

"You alright?" Trea asks, and Tony realizes he maybe hadn't been covering up how fucking nervous he is as well as he'd thought.

"Yeah... yeah, man I'm good." 

Trea nods and Tony can feel his nose and his eyelashes brush up against his neck when he does, which really doesn't help his attempts to calm down. They settle back into each other, Tony plays with Trea's hair and trea starts rubbing at Tony's side, and Tony almost has himself convinced that this is fine, that this is just what they do now, what friends do, when Trea speaks again.

"Tony?" Trea says, quietly, and he swears he sounds just the littlest bit scared. Tony makes a low noise in response, and Trea starts bunching Tony's shirt up in his hand, pulling on the ends of it. Tony ventures a look down at him, but Trea isn't looking at him anymore, he's staring down at his hand and biting the inside of his cheek. It's awhile before he finishes his thought. 

"You can say no," he starts, and Tony's mind starts racing. "But uhh... _fuck_." He buries his face in Tony's shoulder and stays there for a minute before takes a breath and meets Tony's eyes for the first time since they woke up. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and Tony stares at him wide-eyed, which leads Trea to finish it off with the saddest, most desperate sounding "Please?" Tony's ever heard. At this point, he's positive he's dreaming, he never woke up, because this isn't possible, he isn't this lucky, this can't be this easy. And since this is a dream, he figures, there won't be any consequences for saying yes, right? So he nods, still incapable of actually forming words at this point, and Trea's eyes go big too, like he can't believe this is happening either. He nods furiously in return, puts his hands on either side of Tony's neck, his thumbs on Tony's cheeks, and comes in closer, presses his forehead against Tony's for a moment, and Tony watches him close his eyes before he presses their lips together

And if Tony wasn't _sure_ he was dreaming before, he is now, because this is actually too good to be true. Trea kisses him once, gently, quickly, _entirely_ too quickly, then pulls away and stares at Tony like he's asking for permission to keep going. Tony beams up at him, Trea smiles back, and they're both laughing as he pulls Tony back to him. He kisses him longer, harder this time, and Trea tastes like sleep and alcohol but somehow it's not gross, and he's crawling into Tony's lap, ends up sitting on Tony's thighs and craning his neck down to keep kissing him because Trea's taller and they really didn't think this position through, but it's fine, Tony's so fucking happy he doesn't care that his neck is gonna ache from this tomorrow. He just wraps his arms around Trea's waist and keeps him close, close like he'd wanted him since he'd met him. 

They go at it until they're both breathless, and when Trea pulls away, Tony tightens his grip on him, like he's scared Trea's going to run away. But Trea just smiles and rests his forehead back against Tony's.

"I, uhh... did I... was that okay?" Trea asks, still panting a little bit. And he looks so genuinely concerned that Tony can't help himself, he cracks up laughing. Trea shoves Tony back onto the couch and Tony just lays there smiling up at him. 

"Fuck you, man! It wasn't that bad was it?" Trea yells, half smiling. He looks a little hurt though, and Tony doesn't have it in him to keep screwing with him. 

" _Of course_ it was okay! Are you fucking kidding me?! I've been wanting to do that for _months_." He laughs. Trea responds with a quiet "oh." and then they're both giggling and blushing and Tony thinks this might be the happiest he's ever been, which is kind of sad but it's the truth. He yanks Trea down on top of him and kisses him again, with Trea laughing while he does it, and they stay like that, giggling and grabbing at each other and making out like a couple of teenagers, for entirely too long. Trea's the one that finally pulls away.

"I should go shouldn't I?" He asks, sitting up slowly. Tony looks at him funny. "Not because I want to! It's just you have to play tomorrow and it's late and you should probably sleep? At least a little bit, right?" Tony thinks about this briefly, then smirks and pulls Trea back down. But he doesn't move to kiss him again. Instead he adjusts Trea so his head is on Tony's chest and buries his face into his hair. 

"Who says you have to leave for me to sleep, though?" He asks. He can feel Trea's face heat up and, yeah, okay, maybe this is a little much considering they literally just started this. Whatever this was. But Trea gets comfortable, curls up against Tony and runs a hand up and down his arm, so Tony figures it's alright. He'd been waiting too long for this, was too gone for the kid, to really care if he was doing too much too fast.

They'd probably have to talk about this in the morning. There's a million things that can go wrong, with the possibility of teammates and coaches and really anyone finding out. But, considering how happy Trea had looked, Tony would bet that he's willing to risk it. 

He knows he is. 

Tony tangles a hand up in Trea's hair, goes back to playing with it like he had been before, and Trea is knocked out in minutes, breathing heavy into his chest, with Tony following soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk 2 me @fpsantangelo on tumblr!


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